Frayed
by bigpotterfan
Summary: The Muggle world had hidden Freya Clark since it happened but as summer came to an end, it was time to face her world. Alone. Or can new friends help stitch her back together? Or is she too frayed and torn to be mended? The Mighty Seven have set themselves a mission to fix her, but will she let them?
1. Wigs and Secrets

Freya Clark couldn't understand why her parents had ever gotten together; they were like chalk and cheese. Her mother was a wealthy Muggle businesswomen in her thirties while her father was a Wizard, wild, carefree and still in his early twenties. Yet they did, and they ended up having two children, Freya and Charlie. Her parents hadn't lived together in years, and all friendship had died with their relationship. Ultimately it was their differences that had brought them together and then torn them apart. So it was quite a surprise for both of them to be talking in the hallway of Freya's mother and stepfather's house. Still dressed in her pajamas, Freya watched from the top of the stairs.

'Take care of my baby, Adam,' Helen said. Her brown hair hung to her shoulder blades and she was dressed in a smart work suit. She looked nothing short of a prim business lady on a mission.

'Of course I will,' Adam tried to keep his voice soft.

'I know you do,' she sighed. 'She's just extra fragile now, and I worry.'

'It's totally understandable,' Adam replied soothingly, though there was a hint of something else beneath his calmness. 'I do know what it feels like to lose loved ones. Remember I went through the war, and I lost dear friends and teachers. I lost her too, you know.'

'Yes, I-' Helen struggled for words, her cheeks turning red and her mouth turning into a slit. 'That was quite uncalled for, Adam.'

'I'm sorry,' Adam replied, shamefully. 'I was out of line.'

'Well,' her eyes narrowed as she scowled at the father of her children. She chose to ignore him, knowing her daughter was probably listening in. 'Make sure you drive her back by Sunday afternoon. I don't think she's ready for any of that Magical transportation, so I don't mind driving to pick her up.'

'Monday afternoon?' Adam suggested hopefully. 'And don't worry, I'll get her home safe and sound. And I do know what she's capable of. I have lived in the Magical world most of my life. Please have faith that I can take care of my own daughter, like I've done for the last fifteen years.'

'Adam,' Helen said, her tone an octave higher out of anger or frustration. 'Ok, Monday it is then. If I can take them to the station. I feel that's a good deal.'

'If that's what it takes,' he sighed. 'Now can I go and get my children to take them away for the weekend. Charlie's own godfather is getting married.'

'Of course,' Helen said. 'Freya! Charlie! Your father's here, come downstairs now!'

Freya sighed and trooped down the stairs, her face set in a blank expression.

'Freya,' Adam grinned. 'Us Clarks have always liked our sleep,' he joked when he saw that she was still in her pajamas. 'But seriously Freya, it's five o'clock in the afternoon.'

'So!' Freya gave him a quick hug. Adam simply smiled; it didn't really bother him that his daughter was in her pajamas so late into the day. He just knew it bothered Helen, which amused him.

'Where's Charlie?' Adam asked.

'Outside playing footie,' Freya answered. She looked a lot like her father; both had hazel eyes, and soft light brown hair. Their facial features were also quite similar. Angular and bold while still delicate.

'I should have known,' Adam chuckled. 'Why don't you get dressed while I tear Charlie away? I thought we would go out for dinner tonight and then tomorrow we'll go to Diagon Alley to get school supplies and then wedding will be on Saturday.'

'Sure,' Freya shrugged, already turning around to head upstairs. As she threw a few items of clothing in her bag, she began to panic. She wondered if she could actually do it. Besides her parents, Bob (her stepfather), Charlie, Jack (her sort of boyfriend), Ministry workers and a bunch of nurses and healers, she hadn't seen anyone. She had hardly left the house at all since she had left the hospital. It was one thing getting in a car, but it was another thing going to a wedding where everyone would know her, and know what happened. The trip to Diagon Alley would be good practice, but it wouldn't be enough to quench her fears. The Muggle world had hidden Freya Clark since _it_ happened but as summer came to an end, it was time to face her world .Alone.

'Freya,' her mother yelled from downstairs. 'Your father and Charlie are waiting.'

'Ok,' Freya yelled back. She pulled on leggings and a lame Happy Hippogriff t-shirt and grabbed her bag before heading downstairs. 'Ready?'

'Take care honey,' Helen hugged her daughter tightly. 'Please take care of your body, don't dance too much, have a good time and phone me whenever. I'll keep my phone on loud all day.'

'OK,' Freya huffed. 'Stop worrying about me, I'll be fine.'

'Of course,' Helen watched with sadness as her children got into their father's car and drove off. She had come really close to losing Freya again, and she wasn't going to let go of her easily.

'Whose Roger Davies marrying?' Charlie asked as they left the town where he and Freya lived. Did you go to school with her?'

'Yes,' Adam answered. 'We were in the same year in Ravenclaw together. He helped me a lot because I was a Muggleborn and had to go into hiding. He's marrying Althea Pemberton.' Freya was intrigued, her father didn't talk much about the war, and so it was always a surprise when he did. She realised she probably couldn't begin to imagine the horror he must have seen. 'His wife died a few years back, and Althea's been divorced for a while now. Sometimes people just don't find the one until later on.'

'Phoebe's in the same year as me,' Freya commented absentmindedly. 'Though I don't know much about her.'

'She's cool,' Charlie smiled. 'I mean, I haven't talked to her much either, but Albus knows her because of his brother James, and he said she's very cool.'

'Complete package then?' Adam asked, his face breaking out in a grin.

'Dad!' Freya scolded. 'You're so childish.'

'Yep, she's got the full package,' Charlie grinned back.

'You guys are such nobs,' she turned away to look out the window. The two guys rolled their eyes, and started a conversation about Quidditch. The view outside distracted her from her beating heart, and clammy hands. She had never found cars especially safe or comfortable, but after recent events, they were pretty petrifying. The only thing that relaxed her slightly was the fact her father was driving and despite the poor condition of his car, he was a really good driver. After about an hour of driving they arrived outside the Muggle pub in the town he had moved to after the break-up.

'Come on kiddeos,' Adam called happily. 'Time for some good ol' grub.'

'I'm not a kiddeo,' Freya scowled back. 'I'm a fifteen year old witch.'

'Yeah, you act like one to,' Charlie added. 'Just as grouchy and weird as witches in those lame Muggle books.'

'Very funny, Charles,' Freya replied, managing to keep a straight face. The banter between her and her brother had once stressed their mother out, but over time she realised there was no malice and they were simply messing around.

After eating, an exhausted Freya stayed at home while Adam and Charlie went out for a walk. She headed to her small room, and settled down with a book. It had become a regular occurrence as sleeping had become horrible. She couldn't escape the memories and nightmares she tried so hard to forget. She had found exhaustion was the only thing that made her sleep well, so she stayed up as long as her eyes would stay open. Twelve o'clock came around and the guys returned, both happy over a pint. In fact, Freya saw one o'clock, two o'clock and three o'clock before she finally fell asleep.

x

'Freya, are up you yet?' Charlie entered her small bedroom. 'Dad's making breakfast and then we're hitting Diagon Alley.' He sat on the edge of her bed. 'Wake up!'

'You'd better be gentle with it,' she mumbled, still half asleep. 'I don't approve of hitting alleys.'

'I didn't mean it like that, you noodle head.'

'You can come up with a better nickname than that,' Freya argued. 'Do I have to go to Diagon Alley? I'm so warm and comfortable.'

'You need a new wand,' Charlie said simply. 'You can't go back to Hogwarts with no wand. Dad will need his when you back, you know?'

'I do have one,' she snapped indignantly. 'It's just a little poorly.'

'Freya, it's in three parts, and the spellotape is hardly holding it up. Besides, it also emits black smoke whenever you try and do anything more than like _Lumos_.'

'Ok, ok,' she buried her head in the duvet. 'I'll look horrible though.'

'No you don't,' he said passionately. 'You just have a bit of an egg head.'

'Charles Leo Roger Clark!' She snapped. 'That was mean.'

'It's cute though,' he peeled back the duvet and rubbed Freya's head. All her hair had been shaved off, and it had started to grow back. But it was really only a thin layer of peach fuzz. An angry scar ran from her temple down towards the nape of her neck. 'Don't you have the wig the nurses gave you?'

'It's too blonde and it's itchy,' she groaned.

'Where is it?'

'Somewhere on my desk.'

'At least try it again,' he tossed the wig at her.

Freya put in and got out of bed to look at herself in the mirror. It wasn't actually too bad, although it was too light compared to her natural hair colour and it was shorter than her hair had been.

'And these,' Charlie handed her a pair of stylish black sunglasses. 'Perfecto!'

'Oh ok,' she submitted to the laws of nature and her evil younger brother. 'I'll wear this, and hopefully I'll blend in. Along with my neck and chest brace, and cast I'll fit right in.'

'Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,' Charlie smirked. 'Did you know that?'

'Idiot,' she muttered under her breath.

'Hey, I heard that,' Charlie smacked her arm. 'Now come on. Dad's attempting to cook Eggy bread. He'll probably need some help.'

'Help,' Freya smiled. 'He'll need a bloody chef, two assistants and a fireman just in case. He's hopeless.'

'Then lets go,' and that was how Charlie successfully dragged his sister out of her bed.

'Nice disguise,' their dad grinned when they entered the small kitchen. 'But I know it's you, Frey.'

'Really,' she put on a German accent. 'I'm Hilda, I have no idea who Frey is. Sorry.'

'You're ridiculous,' Charlie commented. 'That's not even a good German accent.'

'Whatever,' she said. It felt weird smiling; it had been weeks since she had really smiled. After everything that had happened, smiling and being happy just didn't feel right.

Adam managed to successfully make Eggy bread and the three of them sat down in the living room. The flat was so small that there wasn't room for a table in the kitchen. 'Have you guys got smart clothes to wear to the wedding?'

'Nope,' they both shook their heads and smiled.

'Since when do we ever go to anything formal,' Freya said.

'Like every time you're invited to the Ministry Christmas Ball and you never go,' Adam said, a sparkle in his eye. 'Or any time I invite you to hang out with the Davies family or even the Potters. In fact, it was astonishing that I was able to convince you come to the wedding considering your past history of such events.'

'I've just been too busy,' Freya shrugged. It was half true; she was usually busy with Emma or Jack during one of the many events she was invited to. But the other reason was too hard to admit. 'Besides, I've had like zero conversations with any of the Potter children since I was eleven so I can't imagine how awkward it would be for me to just randomly turn up.'

'It wouldn't be awkward,' he sighed, a flicker of pain crossed his face. 'Anyway, I'm glad you're coming to the wedding. I'll buy you a cute dress.'

'God, dad, I hope not,' Charlie grimaced.

'I wasn't talking to you, numpty' Adam grinned. 'But if you want, I will buy you one too.'

'No fucking way,' he lent backwards, an appalled look on his face.

'Whatever floats your boat,' Adam grinned. 'And, language Charlie.'

'Whatever,' he winked.

'You guys are giving me a headache,' Freya moaned, putting her head on the table.

'Are you going to eat more?' Adam looked at her plate, still full of food.

'I'm not really hungry anymore.'

'Well, I hope you will eat a big lunch at The Leaky Cauldron after our shopping,' he was watching her face carefully.

'Honestly dad, I'm fine. Just not very hungry right now,' she said. 'I'm sure I'll be hungrier later.'

'Ok,' he said, still concerned. 'Well, wand, books, potion supplies and clothes.'

'Aye aye,' Charlie saluted him.

They traveled by floo, something that slightly concerned Freya. But according to her father, it would be worse to apparate, so they flooed straight into the Leaky Cauldron. Thankfully her wig stayed on as she tumbled out of the fireplace.

'This is going to be hell,' she moaned as Charlie helped her up.

'It will be fine,' he comforted. 'Come on, no one will recognise you in that funky disguise.'

'What should my new name be?'

'I don't know, Freya,' Charlie answered. 'And I don't really care.'

'Where do you want to go first?' Adam asked.

'Potion ingredients,' Freya blurted before Charlie could say anything. 'Lets go now.'

She did get several weird looks as random people tried to figure her out, especially with her Wizarding robe that she was wearing over her braces and her very Muggle sunglasses. The robe had been their father's idea, a last minute addition to her disguise. The alley was packed as usual, with people of all ages wondering around, talking with friends, buying things and just mooching around. She spotted several students that she recognised from school, but they didn't notice her. Freya hated how she had to buy a new wand, hers had lived a very fulfilling past four years and she was sorry it had to go. Her body felt like concrete, as the three of them finally entered Olivanders. The old man was still working there, but he had a young apprentice and was planning on retiring soon.

'Ahh the Clark family, what may I do for you?' He heard the little bell jiggle and appeared from behind the shelves. 'I must say, I am surprised to see you three here? I do hope nothing has happened to your wands, they are all such fine ones.'

'I'm afraid my daughter's wand was destroyed,' Adam took out the broken wand from his pocket.

'Ahh,' he carefully took it. '10 ¾ inches, laurel and unicorn hair, rigid' he whispered, inspecting it closely. 'Yes, this damage is extensive, although I don't see any evidence of dark magic against it. But I do sense the air of sacrifice. Interesting.'

Freya nodded, at a loss for words.

'I'm sorry to say, it's beyond repair,' he sighed. 'The damage is too great. Let me measure you.' The charmed tape measure flew towards them, and began measuring various parts of her upper body. 'Such a shame, but I'm glad you're alive. You do look like you've gone through the wars.'

'Just a little,' she whispered, ignoring Charlie's pained look.

'Well, well,' Olivander mused thoughtfully. 'Perhaps this one, eleven inches, willow and unicorn hair.'

She waved the wand and nothing happened.

'Not this one,' he quickly took it back. 'I wonder.'

Freya tried several wands, and none of them seemed to make Olivander happy. Charlie had gotten bored and was now sitting on a wooden bench.

'Maybe this one,' Olivander smiled, albeit a bit creepily. 'Eleven and a quarter inches, unicorn hair, cedar and pretty firm. Try it!'

Freya waved it and immediately felt warm in her hand. She found herself smiling, it wasn't her trusty old wand but it would do.

'We got there eventually,' he smiled, his eyes watery and old. 'It certainly is interesting.'

'What is?' Freya asked.

'That unicorn only gave seven strands of hair, creating only four wands, before the unicorn passed away. She was young when she was killed, murdered in fact by a dying Death Eater.'

'But that was so long ago,' she whispered back, her heart palpating with such intensity. The old man was quite hypnotizing.

'Yes, many wands sit around for a long time before they are united with their rightful owner. The first one was sold in late 1999, and the next one in 2003. The other two collected dust until one eleven-year-old boy came to get his first wand almost exactly four years ago. And then here you are, getting a wand from the same unicorn hair.'

'So who is that boy then?' Freya asked, realising that he must be in her own year. It had been four years almost to the day since she had got her first wand.

'Ahh, I cannot share,' he said, smiling dreamily. 'I see the curiosity in your face, but I cannot share such personal details. What I do know is that the Death Eater that killed the unicorn was also the man who killed your uncle, Charles Clark.'

Freya glanced at her father, who had gone very still and pale. His mouth opened and closed and opened again but no noise came out. Charlie gawped at the old man, struggling to believe what he had just heard.

'Wands have a funny way of choosing their owners,' he said simply, as if explaining away everything. 'That would be seven galleons, please.'

'I never knew that,' Adam whispered, getting the coins out of his pocket. 'Charlie was a fighter, right to the end.'

'Yes, yes he was,' Olivander admitted sadly. 'So many young lives taken, such a travesty.'

'Have a good day,' Adam said sharply.

'Thank you,' he smiled at them. 'And Freya, I'm truly sorry about what happened to your wand.'

'Er thanks,' she mumbled.

The three of them quickly walked out, Freya and Charlie bursting with questions. They all knew about their late uncle Charlie, and they had seen pictures of him, but he wasn't much of a presence in their lives. Both stared at their father's pale face, wondering what to say to him.

'Do you know who the Death Eater was?' Charlie asked, breaking the silence. Their father bit his lip thoughtfully.

'I'm not sure exactly, I think I know' Adam sighed. 'I was told after the fact, but I wonder-'

'Then how does Olivander even know,' Freya asked immediately. 'If you don't really know, and he does. That's ridiculous, are we sure we can trust him?'

He nodded. 'Will you two be ok if if I grab a pint at the Leaky Cauldron. I need to-' he couldn't find the words.

'It's fine, dad,' Charlie shrugged his shoulders. 'Don't worry about us. We'll just bug you later'

'Thanks,' Adam smiled, but it didn't even go near his eyes. 'Here's ten galleons each, spend it on ice cream or whatever. And Freya, make sure you find a nice dress.'

'Ok,' she said. 'Are you really ok, dad?'

'I'll be fine,' he gave them a stiff nod. 'Be back in an hour.'

'How weird?' Charlie said after he had left.

'So weird.'

'Come on, let's get some ice cream.'

'Yeah,' Freya rolled her eyes. 'Come on loser.'

They sat outside and ate ice cream in the summer sun. Charlie got a raspebery and rhubarb mint chocolate sundae, while Freya got a vanilla ice cream banana waterfall.

'Are you excited about the wedding?' Charlie asked.

'Hell no,' Freya exclaimed. 'You've got to be kidding. It means I'll have to see everyone. No, it's gonna be horrible.'

They finished their ice creams before the hour was up, and Charlie was beginning to get restless.

'Ok, I can't deal with you anymore,' Freya finally said. 'Go and explore Weasley Wizard Wheezes, you're making me exhausted. Be back in twenty minutes.'

'Thank you, thank you, you're like the best ever,' he grinned.

'I know.' He had disappeared off at an alarming speed, leaving Freya behind. She sat there, zoning out and people watching. The warm sunlight on her face was relaxing and she lent back in the chair, absorbing the vitamin D, when she heard that awfully familiar voice.

'Come on you lazy slobs, catch up.'

The voice belonged to James Potter, the oldest son of the famous war hero Harry Potter. The very same family that her father had brought up that morning. She had had classes with him for the last four years, so she recognised the voice but they hadn't had any conversations besides things like: can I borrow your quill? Or something like that. She sat up a little more and spotted the owner of the loud voice. James Potter and his friends were debating on ice cream or fudge. At school they were known as the Mighty Seven. Or that's what she had heard through the grapevine. Only six were there today, though.

In the end they found a large table, a few tables away from Freya, and sat down. James Potter and Fred Weasley who also happened to be cousins were sitting next to each other, eyeing the menu with big grins. Alistair Wood, Phoebe McClaggen, and Mog Wood were chatting about something and being very loud about it. The Woods were twins, although they didn't really look very similar. The sixth memebr, Noah Bennett was listening to Fred and James, his blonde hair handsomely tussled. The final member, Laurel Doherty wasn't there, and Freya wondered why. A horrible thought crossed her mind, what would happen if Charlie came back and they recognised him? She did not want anyone of them to recognise her. She wasn't at all ready to talk with any of them.

They glanced over at her, and she had a horrible feeling they were checking her out. Then they turned back and laughed. She wanted to know what they were thinking and talking about. After a bit, James and Alistair came over.

'Hello,' James said, a sly grin on his face. 'Good afternoon. I see you're sitting all on your own.'

Several thoughts and ideas flitted through her head before she realised what she had to do. She gave several hands signs, suggesting she didn't have the ability to talk. They looked puzzled, and shared an awkward look.

'Are you ok?' Alistair asked.

She gave more random signs and pretended she couldn't speak. How fucking awkward?

'So you can't speak?' James finally got.

She nodded and gave them more signs, before she got up, and walked away.

'Hey, what happened to you? Alistair yelled after her. She continued walking on. She had no time for them.

She hung around waiting for Charlie to leave the joke shop. She had never thought that she would ever bump into them like that. How had she been so stupid? Now she was even more worried about the wedding. Was she even ready to face everyone?


	2. Bravery

Chapter 2 - Bravery

The next morning found Freya staring in the mirror, wearing a simple purple knee length dress. She hated how visible the scars on her head and arms were, and she made a mental reminder to get her black cardigan from her chest of draws. With a growl of anguish she turned her back on the mirror and flopped on her bed. The rest of the previous day hadn't turned out too bad, except both Freya and Charlie could tell their father's attention was elsewhere. They ate at the pub, bought the dress and then headed home. She hadn't tried on the dress until that moment, so it was a relief that it fitted ok.

'Hey Frey, can I come in?' Charlie asked from behind the door.

'Sure,' Freya replied.

'Are you ok?' he asked as soon as he entered.

'No,' she sighed. 'I look horrible, I feel horrible. I'm still taking all those Muggle pain meds and I'm still in pain. I don't know if I can do it. Charlie, I'm so scared.'

'Oh Frey,' Charlie put his arm round his elder sister. She was older by twenty months but they were still very close. 'I know you can do it?'

'But why?' She whined, close to tears.

'Because you're the bravest person I know,' he replied simply. 'Why else would you be in Gryffindor, not Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? I know it's going to be bloody hard work, but you can do it. You have mum, dad, Jack, and me. You are not alone.'

Freya smiled weakly but didn't say anything. She twiddled her fingers and stared out the window. For some reason, the wedding seemed more frightening than going back to Hogwarts. Maybe it was because a wedding had started off the nightmare. Or maybe it was because school didn't start for another week, and she had time to pack and get ready. She didn't really know, and thinking about it made her hurt even more.

'Are you going to wear the wig?' He asked, a smirk upon his face.

'I don't think so,' she scowled. 'It was very itchy, and I felt it slip several times. I guess I'll just have to go hair free. Oh well, I'll probably get to scare a few old ladies.'

'Very funny,' he teased. 'And you'll never be scary, with or without hair.'

'Shut up,' she sighed. 'I'm not in the mood right now. I have to go this stupid wedding, like a potato head mummy. It's going to be awful.'

'It wont be,' he smiled encouragingly. 'It will be fine. Oh, well that's your Charlie time over,' he stood up and rubbed his hands together. 'Well I can't wait to see Albus and Nate and see what they've been up to.'

'You saw them five days ago,' Freya pointed out. 'What could possibly have changed?'

'No idea,' he shrugged. Typical boy, Freya thought.

They ended up flooing as the drive would have taken too long. 'Don't tell your mum,' was the last words Adam said before Freya disappeared in a puff of green flame and hurtled through the fireplaces of England. She landed with a loud thud on the floor of the Pemberton-Davies household.

'Welcome,' Roger helped Freya up and used his wand to vanish the soot. 'How are you feeling? It certainly looks like you've been through the wars.' His expression showed pity and sadness.

'I'm fine,' she replied shortly. She winced as she turned to watch her brother tumble out of the fireplace. She reckoned she would have several new bruises to add to her collection. 'It's just a precaution really.'

'Hey everyone,' Charlie grinned, his green eyes shinning from his sooty face. 'Happy wedding day.'

'Thanks Charlie,' Roger smiled fondly at his godson. 'Now come to the kitchen. I have no idea where the kids are, probably outside.'

'Good to see you mate,' Adam expertly rolled out of the fireplace and hugged his close friend. 'I'm so glad I could be here.'

'I'm glad you're here too,' he grinned. 'It's good to see the family. I feel like it's been a long time since I've seen all three of you.'

'Yeah, last summer I think,' Adam said. 'Now where's this food you were talking about?'

'Come this way,' Roger led them to the kitchen. Their house was on the large side, as they brought five children in the marriage. Althea and her ex-husband Cormac McLaggen had three daughters, Iris, Phoebe and Cassia. Roger had Elliot and Mia, who were all similar ages to the girls.

'You'll be fine,' Charlie gently pushed Freya towards the door. 'I'll be right next to you.'

'Thanks,' she whispered back. 'You're the best bro ever.'

'Course I am,' he winked cheerfully. 'Come on, let's go and find people our own age.'

Freya nodded, too chocked up for words. She had a horrible feeling it would be a very long day.

x

Five members of the Mighty Seven were huddled together outside, as they waited for the wedding to start. The wedding was in the back garden of Roger and Althea's good-sized house. The garden was well kept, with several gazebos, a fountain and other cool features. The three boys and two girls had been friends forever, having grown up together and all ending up in Gryffindor. Two usual members of the group were not present; one being away visiting family in the States (Laurel Doherty) while the other simply wasn't invited to the wedding being a Muggleborn (Noah Bennett). All five were dressed in traditional dress robes, and two of the boys were complaining bitterly about their outfits.

'I don't know why I have to wear this stupid robe,' James moaned. 'I look like those six hundred year olds from those portraits at school.'

'I think it makes you look quite dashing,' Phoebe grinned. She looked pretty relaxed for someone whose mother was about to get married to her stepfather. In fact, nothing much fazed her, which was probably good as she was best friends with James and Fred. Those guys tended to shock people by their loud personalities. It also helped that Phoebe was actually quite fond of her stepfather, and they got along well enough.

'I like mine,' Fred grinned. His dress robe was deep navy and quite stylish for Wizarding dress robes.

'Clearly you were dropped on your head as a baby,' Alistair laughed. 'They're gross.'

'Course,' Fred replied, laughter in his rich brown eyes. It would be a lie to say that Fred didn't smile much. He was just the kind of happy person whose cup was almost always full. 'I have a feeling dad must have dropped me a few times, they always said I was a very wriggly baby.'

'Makes sense,' James chuckled. 'Let's not forget the time you jumped out of the two story tree house because you thought it would be fun. There goes several hundred of your brain cells.'

'Or the time that you decided you wanted to defy gravity,' Alistair continued. 'Yeah, that didn't end well.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Fred sighed. 'There's no denying I was a slightly reckless and impulsive child.'

'And teenager,' Mog added.

'Stop ganging up on me,' he pouted. 'I can't help it.'

'It's ok,' Phoebe patted his arm. 'We still love you anyway.'

'I love you too,' Fred nuzzled Phoebe who allowed the sudden affection. That was just how Fred was.

Several adults began to filter out to the garden were the ceremony was to be held, encroaching on the small teen zone. All were dressed smartly, although not all men wore dress robes, which made James and Alistair fume.

'Hey, that's Adam Clark,' Mog exclaimed suddenly.

'Er, who's that?' Alistair asked. 'He looks familiar, but I can't place him.'

'He's Freya's father,' James said, taking in the middle-aged man. His hair was still brown, with no grey hairs. He couldn't help noticing how similar he was to his daughter.

'Freya, as in Freya Clark,' Fred said, his face serious for a second.

'Yep, as in one half of Fremma,' Mog added. 'I wonder if she's here.'

'Or she could be dead,' Alistair said thoughtfully. 'I mean who leaves three weeks before school ends and doesn't come back.'

'She's not dead,' James said firmly, apparently clearing up the matter. 'There would have been a funeral and it definitely would have been in the news.'

'It's just so mysterious,' Phoebe commented, as they all watched Adam Clark mingle with friends and colleagues.

'It's so strange that none of the teachers said anything,' Mog said. 'I mean it was obvious they were very worried, but still. They simply said that Freya wouldn't be back for the foreseeable future, and that Emma had died and there would be an investigation.'

'Well there's Charlie,' James pointed to the tall light brown haired boy. He was familiar with Charlie because he was a good friend of his brother Albus.

'This is intriguing,' Fred craned his neck to get a good look. 'Now I'm curious to know if Freya's here.'

'Well it starts in fifteen minutes,' Phoebe said. 'Lets split up and have a look around.'

'Gotcha,' Fred stood up.

'Actually, Phoebe we need you now,' her sister Iris called her over.

'See yah suckers,' she followed her sister to where the rest of the wedding party was.

The four of them fanned out, through the pristine garden, and the tent where the ceremony would be. None of them spotted her and they soon settled in the back row. Freya was in fact in the toilet, hyperventilating and close to tears. She had managed to hide from everyone, but she knew it was time. She slipped out the bathroom and nervously headed towards the tent.

'There she is,' Alistair suddenly said.

'Of fuck,' was James's choice words as he took in the neck brace, chest brace, arm cast, scar on her head and her very short hair. 'What happened to her?'

'Oh my god,' Mog exclaimed, her face pale with shock. She had never seen someone with such visible injuries, which made sense because magical healing tended to be pretty fast.

'Why didn't she get Magical treatment?' Fred asked, his voice unusually hollow. 'She looks horrible.'

'Probably couldn't go to St Mungos,' Mog thought allowed. 'I think I remember hearing her mother's a Muggle. Probably explains why she looks so bad.'

'That's awful,' Alistair said.

Freya glanced over them; obviously realising they were talking about her. She blushed deep red, her mouth turning into a slit and her eyes narrowing angrily. Charlie came to her rescue and pulled her away to his seat a few rows ahead.

James couldn't help the sickening feeling he felt, as the wedding began and the bride and her father walked down the rose lined pathway to the sound of a calming harp. He could see the pain and anguish in her eyes, and he hated knowing the suffering she must be feeling. That was one of the few things he really got from his father and his experiences in the war: the understanding of suffering and pain, and the power of love. Coupled with his innate kindness, James was unusually sensitive and receptive.

The ceremony was short and sweet, but James's attention was on Freya. If he lent forwards slightly, and if the person behind her sat back, he could get a good enough view of her. She was twiddling her fingers, and staring into space. Even from the distance, he could see how uncomfortable she was.

'I'm happy to announce Mr. and Mrs. Davis. You may kiss the bride,' the small priest yelled happily. The newly married couple kissed, and everyone erupted into cheers and shrieks. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Freya slip away. Nobody realised and he wondered where she would go.

'Please head outside while we prepare for the reception. Food is available outside, and the dancing will begin at eight,' Roger announced. There was a round of applause and then everyone dispersed to eat the barbeque.

'Barbeque,' Fred grinned, distracted by food as usual.

'You're hopeless,' Mog sighed. 'Don't you know we have a mission?'

'Er what mission?' His face fell then lit up like a small child. 'There's burgers, and hotdogs over there.'

'Don't worry, I'll talk about it with more intelligent people,' Mog turned to her brother and begged him with her eyes. 'Don't you care about the mission?'

'Mog, I can't help you with the mission if you don't tell us what it is,' Alistair said slowly, using all his patience.

'Yeah, what's the mission?' Phoebe joined them.

'Food,' Fred said, dragging Phoebe away. 'Come on the cutest bridesmaid of them all.'

'Oh shut up Fred,' Phoebe pulled free from his grasp.

'We saw Freya Clark,' James informed Phoebe casually.

'What!' Phoebe exclaimed. 'Where? When? How?'

'So many questions,' Alistair said, obviously overwhelmed.

'So much food,' Fred pointed to the tables of food.

'It will still be there in five minutes,' Mog reminded him.

'You're horrible,' Fred pouted but still listened to the conversation.

'She was with her dad and Charlie, like three rows from the back,' James said. 'She's pretty messed up; she's wearing some sort of neck and body brace. I think her arm's broken as she wearing one of those Muggle casts. Also her hair's like really really short.'

'It must have all been shaved off?' Phoebe said. 'But why?'

'I don't know?' James shrugged.

'Now please, lets get some food,' Fred said and they all nodded and went off to find the food. On the way they spotted Freya and Elliot walking together.

'I didn't know they knew each other,' Mog said stupidly.

'It's hard not to know someone when they're in your year and house,' Alistair teased his twin. 'Of course they know each other.' Mog scowled back.

'She's limping,' James commented unexpectedly. 'Something must have happened to her leg.'

'Looks like maybe a quidditch accident,' Fred said.

'Or a car accident,' Mog said.

'I don't know,' James shrugged. 'But I'll find out.'

Freya watched the rest of the wedding from the middle of a tree, as one does when they want to avoid people. After conversing with Elliot for a bit, he disappeared off to dance. Unable to bear the music and the sights of smiling and dancing people, she clambered up the tree most inelegantly and settled there with a bottle of bottomless Firewhisky. She ignored the burning feeling as the amber liquid slipped down her throat. The Weird Sisters old stuff floated up to her and she scowled. A few people wondered over to the edge of the party, almost under the tree but didn't notice her.

After awhile her body began to ache and her head throb. It was time for her to get down but she wasn't sure if she could. She reckoned she was probably fifteen metres up or something close to, and a good tree climber knows it's often easier to get up than down. With ease she slipped down the first few branches, but then her head began to pound, and her movements felt very jerky and disconnected. She began to loose grip, but with a last ditch effort to save herself from falling, she swung down to the lower branch, and swung down even further. A voice stirred as she took the jump down.

'What on earth are you thinking?' Freya ignored them, as she landed, crouching as she did. She sucked in air as the jolt ripped through her body and she began to sway.

'Are you ok?' The guy asked, and Freya finally looked up. It was a surprise to see James. His friends Mog and Alistair soon joined him, and all three were staring at Freya, in shocked silence.

'I'm fine,' she snapped back. 'Never better.'

'Well you look like you're in no state to climb any trees,' Mog said, trying to sound helpful.

'I had no idea,' she rolled her eyes and walked away. She gave them the middle finger before jogging away, until she was absorbed by the happy wedding guests.

'Well she clearly has an attitude problem,' Alistair grumbled.

James nodded. 'Lets just leave her be. I'm sure she doesn't want us nosey bastards in her face all the time.'

'Yeah,' Mog agreed.

So they tried hard to forget about her and enjoy the wedding. The adults were getting a bit tipsy as they danced into the night. Therefore leaving the young people pretty much up to their own devices. Or they were simply naive enough to think their children wouldn't get into any trouble. Though it was probably a combination of both.

'You ok love?' Adam asked his daughter, who was gently swaying to softer music. 'You look a bit worse for wear.'

'How ironic,' Freya scowled. 'I'm just ready for bed.'

'Well, I spoke to Roger and he and Althea set up a tent for young people to sleep in. I'll probably crash here tonight anyway so you might as well go there for the night. There are proper beds and blankets and stuff.'

Freya couldn't find the words to such a ridiculous idea. The alcohol had really begun to set in and she felt quite wobbly and fuzzy. She was also starting to feel cold, as the cool breeze went through her small cardigan. 'Where's Charlie?' She finally asked.

'By the fire,' Adam replied. 'A lot of the youngsters are there now. The tents pretty close by, I think.'

'Ok,' Freya tripped over a few people as she hurried away, the bottle of Firewisky still tightly in her grasp. She took several glugs as she headed over to the fire. With each movement, she felt less herself. All feelings were numbed and she simply existed. The darkness hid her as she sat at the edge of the fire, on a small log.

'For we're a jolly good fellow,' a few of them drunkenly sung loudly. She tried to listen out for individual voices but they were swallowed up by shrieks of laughter and joyous talking.

'Congratulations Phoebe and Elliot,' a voice yelled loudly. It sounded a bit like Fred. By this time it was getting harder to focus and she began to shake. She wondered what kind of drunken person she was. Not a happy go-lucky person like Emma. Not a loud obnoxious person she imagined James or Fred would be. She was simply numb and unfeeling, not happy or sad.

'You ok Freya,' a calming voice whispered in her ear.

'Course Charles,' she mumbled. 'I'm is very fine, like a fish, or a penguin. I loves penguins. Like Happy Feet. I can dance like happy but I'm not happy. How can I be happy without her.' Her voice had got louder and louder, and the others had gone silent, listening curiously to Freya's drunken word vomit. Oblivious, she continued. 'No, I like fires. Neither a good servant nor a good master. He melts when it's hot. Real snowmen don't. They're magic, like me. I don't-'

'Freya, you ok?' Charlie asked, acutely aware of all the people watching his sister. 'Have you got food or water?'

'Yeah,' Freya held up the bottle of Firewisky. 'All sorted.'

'Er Frey,' he couldn't help snorting. 'That's not water.'

'It's bottomless Firewisky,' Elliot said. He was sitting a few people from Freya and could see the bottle. 'How much have you had, Freya?'

'Not much, dear knight of Elliotdom,' Freya slurred.

'Let's take you off to bed now,' Charlie stood up and pulled Freya to her feet. 'You're coming with me.'

'Nope,' she giggled and easily slipped away. Despite being injured, and wearing the neck brace and body brace, she was remarkably agile. 'I'm going to do it myself,' she sang. She found the small orange tent easily. It didn't surprise her that it was magically enlarged, with a living room, three bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. It was cosy and comfortable. Instead of finding a bed, she sat on the sofa, staring into space. Time became nothing as she sat there, half drifting off but jolting awake as she felt herself falling. Her brain exhausted but scared, forced her awake every time. Memories began to resurface and she looked around for ways to forget them. Several wine bottles stood in the sink and she hobbled up to get one. Yes, wine would make her sleepy. Without a wine opener, she used her wand to open it and she drank thirstily from it. She knew time had passed, but it meant nothing. She was almost asleep when she heard voices as people entered the tent.

'We do have beds you know?' Elliot said, spotting Freya.

Freya nodded. She didn't trust herself to talk without spewing her guts. The wine and Firewhiskey had been an awful combination and she felt very sick.

'Are you ok?' People sat down next her, making her feel claustrophobic. She backed away, her eyes wide with fear.

'Lets take off your brace,' Charlie took charge. He was glad he had chosen not to drink; he knew his sister would need his help later. Freya nodded, and Charlie carefully pulled down the zip and eased it off her. He then took off the neck brace, and smothered her sweaty hair.

'No bed, no,' she mumbled and suddenly fell into a deep slumber.

'Are you sure she's ok?' James asked. 'She looks quite pale.'

'She'll be fine.'

Without warning, she started retching and wine coloured vomit spewed out, hitting her, the sofa, Charlie and the floor. He recoiled in shock. 'Shit!'

'Oh my gosh,' people exclaimed.

James's cousin Dominique cleared up the vomit immediately and lit a scented candle. 'Bed everyone. Lets give her some space.' Everyone wondered off, in a drunk and dazed stupor.

'Are your sure that's healthy,' James asked. 'That's very red vomit. Like blood?'

'Its just wine,' Charlie held up the near empty bottle that had half rolled under the small coffee table. 'She'll be fine,' he covered her in blankets. 'She'll be right as rain tomorrow.' The lie felt stupid as soon as it came out of his mouth, and hung above them like a dark cloud. They all knew that she wouldn't just wake up fine, healed and pain free. It was real life, not a fantasy book.

'Ok,' James said doubtfully.


End file.
